While voting arrangements were being organized among the eastern tribes’ outlying communities, Kabir and his biologists were hard at work preparing containers of “primordial soup.” At the same time, rebel forces raided the Space Institute, with teams of engineers assigned to prepare as many drone rockets as possible for launch. Slightly larger than the interior dimensions of my cell, these two-stage capsules were programmed to pierce Berudim’s atmosphere at an angle and velocity that would ensure they would survive the journey until impact, bursting their chemical payloads on Berudim… Or so we hoped.

As Kabir explained it, the success of the mission came down to sheer luck, which relied heavily on a numbers game. Unlike Charon, Berudim’s surface was mostly water. Because the atmosphere obscured our view of any landmasses, we needed to launch as many rockets as possible, spreading them out. Each probe carried a twenty-six-percent probability of impacting land. An ocean burst would dilute the biological soup, rendering it useless.

The good news was that the results of the mission would be known to me immediately. If life evolved on Berudim in the distant future because of our efforts then, theoretically, I should have a new incarnate to communicate with right after the drones’ impact. If we failed, then a void would remain in the universal consciousness.

Seventy-two drone rockets were readied for the mission, with three larger drones and two back-ups armed with scalar weapons.

Now it was up to the people. Would they be ruled by faith or fear, hope or uncertainty? I realized that two worlds’ fates hung in the balance, Charon’s and every species that might potentially existed on Berudim.

Eleven days before the Miketz calderas were predicted to erupt, the twelve tribal leaders cast votes that represented the will of their people. By a count of seven to five, a decision was rendered in favor of destroying Berudim. Though I argued with anyone who would listen, the five drones containing the scalar weapons were launched, beginning a six-day journey to vaporize our approaching neighbor.

A day later the plagues struck, and suddenly no one wanted to stay on Charon.

Scientists theorized that the unpredicted events were caused by a bad combination of seismic activity and the effects of Berudim’s gravitational forces on Charon’s iron and sulfur core, causing it to slow its rotation.

The tribes didn’t care what was causing the upheaval—only that it was happening. First the lakes and streams that provided our drinking water became tainted with red clay. This sent the amphibious wildlife—frogs and other creatures—evacuating the water to invade our homes. Our livestock drank the water and quickly fell sick. Fleas and lice, seeking new hosts, targeted our people, inflicting their skin with boils and rashes.